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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 03, No. 15, January, 1859"

"
The Doctor stretched his head forward to a paper which lay before him,
and responded in a low, murmuring voice, as reading something.
"Firstly,--if underived virtue be peculiar to the Deity, can it be the
duty of a creature to have it?"
Here a little waxen hand came with a very gentle tap on his huge
shoulder, and "Doctor, tea is ready," penetrated drowsily to the nerve
of his ear, as a sound heard in sleep. He rose suddenly with a start,
opened a pair of great blue eyes, which shone abstractedly under the
dome of a capacious and lofty forehead, and fixed them on the maiden,
who by this time was looking up rather archly, and yet with an attitude
of the most profound respect, while her venerated friend was assembling
together his earthly faculties.
"Tea is ready, if you please. Mother wished me to call you."
"Oh!--ah!--yes!--indeed!" he said, looking confusedly about, and
starting for the door, in his study-gown.
"If you please, Sir," said Mary, standing in his way, "would you not
like to put on your coat and wig?"
The Doctor gave a hurried glance at his study-gown, put his hand to his
head, which, in place of the ample curls of his full-bottomed wig, was
decked only with a very ordinary cap, and seemed to come at once to a
full comprehension.


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